Happy All Hallows Eve

I can see why the All Hallows Eve got changed into the zippier sounding Halloween.

We were sitting out on the porch, watching the sky turn pink, when two horses and a pony showed up. They were taking their people trick-or-treating. I didn't even mind when the gorgeous pony walked through my landscaping. (or what might pass as landscaping someday) It's great to live in a town where you might be spontaneously visited by horses.

We were enjoying the warm weather but noticed that none of the kids would come to our house for candy while we were sitting there. So we went inside.

There were still little kids who wouldn't come up the walk even with a grown-up urging them on. Maybe we could make a little money renting out the house for a horror flick someday.

We had 94 trick-or-treaters or, as I like to call them, Halloweenies, this year.

It was spookier when we had bats in the attic.

Zombie Night is Almost Here

After years of having no trick-or-treaters in Boulder, we moved to Longmont. This is an old-fashioned neighborhood so, last year, I expected to have some kids at the door as opposed to none. Sadly, I ran out of candy after 60 kids. So this year I'm prepared. I have enough candy for 120 kids. I think it's overkill but I can add the leftovers to the Thanksgiving festivities. I also found out that peanut butter cups can be frozen and I have a lot of extras. The moon is slightly past full so the mood will be just right. I'm hoping for zombies.

I watched the news about the monster storm back east in the early morning, then went out to the ranch to meet with the farrier and got a little sunburned. It's hard to believe we're having such nice weather at the end of October. I haven't even fallen into my seasonal depression of dread about winter's approach. (yet)

A young woman from the ranch just had twins...a boy and a girl. She named them Peyton and Buster. And I recently found out a young member of our family is expecting. She's a Pokemon fan so we're worried the baby will be named Pikachu.

Babies are nice to have around.

15 Items or Else

I was in the grocery store and had fewer items than usual but a lot more than 15. I was in a regular line when the supervisor directed me to use the 15 Items or Less lane. Always obedient, I went into the lane and unloaded my groceries, but I could tell the checkout lady was upset. Meanwhile, a man with even more stuff than me was sent over by the same supervisor. He was clearly embarrassed when a person with a few items in his hands got in line behind us.

I tried to joke with the unhappy woman at the register, but she was not going to cheer up. "If she sends them over, I have to check them out. Doesn't matter how much stuff they have, I'm not supposed to say anything," she said. So much for discretion, I thought.  I told her it was embarrassing to be the one with too many items but, after all, it was an employee who told me to get in this line. I should have just been quiet because she was quickly being overwhelmed by the injustice of the situation.

This made me remember the relative who thought I was a rule-breaker. Here I am fretting about being in the express lane-breaking bad!

When I talked to my daughter, she reminded me a similar thing had happened to her father-in-law.
He was in a grocery store and was sent to the express lane even though he had a cart of groceries. In his  case, the customer behind him objected. After trying to explain that it wasn't his idea to use that line, he tried to ignore the man. He was putting his groceries in his trunk when the same man approached and sprayed mace in his face. They never caught the guy. Rolling around on the ground with a face full of mace is an extreme price to pay for getting in that line.

I'm prepared now for the next time. When I'm told to use the express lane, I'm going to shout, "Try and make me!"

Rumi

Rumi was a Persian poet who lived from 1207 until 1273, and is widely read in translation today. I've heard of him but never looked into his story.

I was in a thrift store and found a copy of The Essential Rumi. I wasn't terribly interested but opened the book to have a look around. The first thing I saw was a poem called The Three Fish. Within the poem  was the stanza:

      "A certain man used to say the wrong prayer
      for the wrong hole. He'd say the nose-prayer
      when he splashed his behind. Can the odor of heaven
      come from our rumps? Don't be humble with fools.
      Don't take pride into the presence of a master."

So I bought the book.

When you read the stanza before this one, it makes sense in context and is not as humorous. But this is how I find out about new things in life. A twig leads to a branch. The branch connects to the trunk but there are many large and small branches to explore along the way. Then there's the bark to think about and the leaves. This could turn into metaphor hell before I get down to the roots....And then there's the water and sunshine to consider, so this could evolve into some kind of connectedness rant.




   

Awake

I've been slightly unhealthy for the last five days but nothing obvious to the casual observer, (always loved that phrase-as if anyone would ever observe me) but obvious to me. After ignoring the symptoms, I finally gave in and took multiple naps today. Now it's the appropriate time to sleep and I'm awake.

It's snowing right now. The morning commute won't be fun, but I have sexy new snow tires to show off. A Frankenstorm is being predicted for the east coast. We have some badass storms in Colorado but nothing freaky, franken-wise.

Thanks to late-night television, I now know that there is coffee called the Black Ivory Blend from Thailand. The blend is made from coffee beans that are eaten by elephants then excreted. Their handlers then pick the beans out of the dung and dry them in the sun. The cost for this delightful coffee is $1,100 per kilogram. If elephants aren't your thing, you can also buy coffee that has traveled the digestive system of a civet, a tree-dwelling animal. I think my holiday shopping is going to be easy this year.

Wet Heavy Snow

As the title would suggest, it's snowing the mucky heavy stuff. Good-bye lovely fall colors.

I'm hooked on the British television show: Sherlock. Now I find out there are only six episodes produced so far. A few more are planned for 2013. Is it my imagination or are these television producers getting lazy?

 I now have the perfect reading combination. Telegraph Avenue by Chabon, and Every Love Story is a Ghost Story: A Life of David Foster Wallace, by D.T. Max. Quality stuff and tomorrow is a gloomy day, perfect for reading.

I need to finish up the river trip stuff. Unfortunately, I have become aware that the scant few people reading the posts seem to think it sounded like we were having a terrible time. This was not the case, so it can only be my faulty use of the English language. (I'm so embarrassed.) We were all having an awesome time. It just isn't the kind of happy that can be described with the big important happy words, but more with soft happy words like peaceful, serene, tranquil, inspiring, and we were usually in the  jaw-dropping presence of amazing geologic beauty. Reconnecting with nature after living in the Borg collective is quite a shock at first, then it starts to feel really comfortable. I'll try to be more effusive in the future, both in word and deed.

The Green River in Utah